I'm still mulling over why that is. One aspect I was thinking about last night was the weather change. When spring comes, (here in Minnesota, at least) we abandon everything indoors and rush outside to swim, hike, run, or just read a good book in the sun. And we don't abandon it until the rains of October force us indoors where we cozy up with tea/coffee and legwarmers and... think.
|You don't want to go outdoors when it's like this in October. Ew.|
And thinking leads to writing. No longer distracted by sunshine and pools, we face all those philosophical meanderings we put off in the spring. We put aside the chick lit and take up the classics (or the really thick fantasy tomes). We can't garden or go to the zoo or take photos outside, so we have our computers and our pencils and our paper. We have to make our own warmth with our words and our thoughts.
I think this is assisted by our upbringing as well. School starting in autumn has trained us to be ready to work intellectually when the weather changes. That scent of dying leaves turns up the desire to sit down and construct something on paper or computer, just as the smell of fresh grass in the spring lures us out of doors.